This one article in The News Straits Times attract my attention. Written by Juneita Johari. I find it amusing and at the same time makes me think about the simple thing for us but hardly impossible for other special children.
"HAIRCUTS and hairstyles have never been a simple thing in my family of three sons and a daughter.
Eldest son Omar won’t sit still for a haircut. Second son Othman insists on going blonde and keeping a mohawk. Youngest son does not want his hair cut. And my only daughter wants long, blue hair.
For my eldest, it has always been a challenge. Of course, it was much easier when he was a baby because we could manage, or rather restrict the bobbing head, but not when he grew older, not to mention stronger.
One would not have thought about such things until one is challenged with it — how to give special children haircuts.
I have tried giving Omar haircuts at home. For a long time I could not find a barber who could give him a good haircut. In those days, nearly some 20 years ago, I thought that boys went to barbers and girls to hair salons. It never occurred to me that men also sought the skills of hairstylists. So, for years, from the time Omar was a toddler to about six years, he had to suffer the untrained skills of his mama’s scissors. Omar and Othman would have what some people called the “Friar Tuck” (a character from Robin Hood) hairstyle. Some would call it the pudding-bowl haircut, others would more kindly refer to it as the “page boy”. It wasn’t so bad for Othman who eventually settled for a crew cut.
It wasn’t that I did not like my sons to look good. It was because there was not a barber I knew who was patient and kind enough for Omar, a physically and mentally challenged child who could not understand instructions such as “sit still!” He would turn to look left, right, or sharply move his head in the opposite direction when a sound attracted his attention. Also, because he had autistic tendencies, he tended to move his head from side to side, humming. Sometimes he would roll his head the way you would in warm-up exercises. He would flinch at the sound of snipping scissors or the buzz of an electric razor. His hands were never still.
If the barber’s hand was a bit too firm in holding his head still, he would let out a high-pitch shrill that could make you deaf. By that time, he would be unsettled and bad tempered, sliding off the high chair before an upset barber. Then he would roll on the floor, which was littered with snipped hair, much of which would get into his mouth, eyes and ears, or get stuck on his body. He would start scratching his face and eyes, trying to remove the hair. I always carried sanitised wet tissues, but they came in handy only up to a point. I would pay the barber his fees even though the haircut was incomplete, put Omar in the car and drive home. On a bad day, I may even get bitten, punched or kicked by Omar before managing to get him out of the barber’s and into the car. When we reached home, he would have to be quickly bathed to get those strands of hair off him.
Omar has such a thick and silky head of hair. I have gone through a few pairs of scissors, always looking for the perfect pair so I would not of cut my fingers. Quite a few times have I had my fingers nicked. I can certainly identify with Edward in the movie Edward Scissorhands, who was often plastered with band-aids. It wasn’t until I was at my hairdresser Annita’s that I found the solution. As usual Annita would ask how I was. As she lathered shampoo on me, I could feel the stress evaporating and I would tell her about Omar. She suggested that I brought Omar to her. After all, she was an experienced and skilled hairstylist. Her salon was also unisex. I brought Omar to her the very next day and witnessed her work her magic. It was not just about skill. It was the way she managed Omar. She was calm and spoke in a very soothing way. If Omar was skittish and nervous, she would calm him down. I could not remember what she said, but I did remember feeling calm. It was as though she had all the time in the world for Omar. No rush. No pressure. Before I knew it, she was done — in about half an hour, and Omar would be having a beautiful haircut. No tears, no spitting or biting, and certainly no rolling on the floor. I had tears in my eyes, so heartfelt was my appreciation and gratitude. Omar looked good and was not traumatised. From then on, we went to Annita’s for years, even though she changed her business location.
When Omar began going to the centre for special children, a group of hairdressers used to drop by to cut all the students’ hair for free every alternate month. They had wanted to do charity work and this was the way they best knew. The parents and the committee members were grateful. We looked forward to the hairdressers’ visits, and many of the children enjoyed taking part. These stood as among the simple acts of kindness that may not even occur to most of us. The children always looked good with these professional hairstyles, and for their parents, it was one task less.
Omar now gets his haircut from Mei Ling at her home salon. When Omar is unwell, Mei Ling will make house calls. And it is not just the service. Mei Ling also has a special rapport with Omar. She is calm but chatty and knows how to manage Omar. Once or twice she was caught off-guard and cut her fingers, like when Omar moved suddenly to scratch the itch on his nose. We also discovered the effectiveness of putting on a thin raincoat on Omar instead of the light plastic sheet. It has not been easy, but there is much laughter when we recall the episodes. A bad hair day is sometimes just that, bad hair. We learn through trial and error. A small but kind gesture can lighten a person’s life for quite a while."
Credit to Juneita Johari in NST, 15th Jan 2011.
I'm not sure if I can be one of those mothers. I admire them! Seriously!
p/s: thinking about getting a hair cut suddenly!
